


Yellow Rose

by QueSeraAwesome



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Childhood, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Homecoming, Mother-Daughter Relationship, One Shot, Parent Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 12:23:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3249542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueSeraAwesome/pseuds/QueSeraAwesome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The moments with her Carolina remembers best, the most clearly, are when Mom came home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yellow Rose

Mom would always bring people home with her when she came back. Their house was near the airport, and she never let a friend stay in the barracks while they waited for their flights home when she could put them up for the night.

Mom had bad taste in men. But good taste in friends.

You remember him the most. The rental car would pull up to the curb, marines pulling duffles out of the trunk, BDUS bunchy around their hips, voices raised and joyous, and most often it would be him in the passenger seat. He had long eyelashes that flickered when he laughed, which was often. You don’t remember his name, but your remember his voice.

When Mom came home, when the car pulled up, you would fly out the door, blonde hair streaming behind you. You always kept your shoes on in the house when Mom was expected home.

"There she is, Allison!" he’d yell, unfolding his bulky form out of the car. "Your yellow rose of Texas!"

Mom would skid across the hood, dropping to her knees to hug you in the middle of the lawn and her hair would brush your face, and your hair would brush hers.

The marines would laugh and cheer, and sometimes, most times, he’d start to sing. An old song, complete with a terrible attempt at a country drawl. He’d ruffle your hair, and second your request for pizza for dinner.

He’d sing the song sometimes. You’d hear him humming it as he got ready in the morning, getting ready to catch his flight to Dubai. You’d hum it to yourself, when you missed your mom. “But this yellow rose is always here when you come home again.”

Your mother dies, and you dye your hair red.

**Author's Note:**

> queseraawesome.tumble.com


End file.
